


Chasms That Connect Us

by EverybodyWantsToRuleTheWorld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cussing, Don't Like Don't Read, Homosexual Sirius, Inspired by Music, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Music Lovers, bisexual remus, music fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 17:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverybodyWantsToRuleTheWorld/pseuds/EverybodyWantsToRuleTheWorld
Summary: Sirius hated The Alan Parsons Project. Remus didn’t.Remus hated The Scorpions. Sirius didn’t.It took twelve years for them to start loving what they used to hate.





	Chasms That Connect Us

The Hating:

Year:1977  
Christmas, Seventh Year  
Remus is 17, Sirius 18.

  
_If I had a mind to,_  
_I wouldn’t wanna think like you_  
_And if I had the time to_  
_I wouldn’t wanna talk to you_

Sirius couldn’t bear this song. He still remembered Remus playing this song for the first time right before the holidays were about to begin and Sirius couldn’t help but feel as if he could never listen to this song ever again. It was hate at first listen. I, Robot was the The Alan Parsons Project’s second studio album, which teetered about the genre of progressive rock. It was Remus’ rock. He could still imagine Remus’ eyes closed as the record spinned in the silent common room, the only sign of movement being the constant tapping of Remus’ feet with the rhythm. ‘A song becomes a thousand times better when it has a rhythm. Not, a beat, no.’ Sirius couldn’t bear that song, Lenny Zakatek’s somewhat lost, somewhat lazy voice making his mind go into a whirlwind.

_I don’t care_  
_What you do_  
_I wouldn’t want to be like you_  


Sirius was utterly sick. The bus in which he was currently travelling had this song playing on the radio. He couldn’t believe it. He’d caught a muggle bus to London because neither of his parents were there to receive him. No one, actually. Regulus voiced his opinion out to the open air, never once addressing Sirius, that they should send an owl to their parents, wait for a carriage and some staff to be sent. Sirius was angry now, his own brother acting as if the open space was a better choice for conversation than his own brother. “Keep waiting for a carriage while I go and travel like a normal guy. Which is what I am.”  
“Of course, you would think of yourself like others. Despite being born better, born purer, you’d want to downcast your own self.”  
“Seriously Reg, look at you. You look like a self imposed prick. You look like someone who’s been forced to speak someone else’s mind out. You and I both know that what you’re talking is shit.”  
“It might be shit to you,Sirius. It’s a principle for us.”  
Sirius had had enough. If he left now, he could still catch a bus from the station. He shook his head, got his trolley, and turned around to leave, when Regulus said-  
“Oh, and Sirius?”  
Sirius turned around and looked at him. Somewhere in his heart, deep in an uncharted corner, he hoped that Regulus would ask him to take himself with him. To leave together to someplace at, far away. Like they talked about when they were young. “Like Australia, Siri.”, Regulus used to say when they were still little and Sirius used to ask him where he wanted to run away to with his older brother. It was amazing, how his brother always gave him a different reply altogether. Always. Sometimes it was Japan. Sometimes Mexico. Sometimes Anactica. (Sirius would laugh and correct him. It’s ‘Antarctica’, Reg.)  
Sirius raised his eyebrow questioningly.  
“Please don’t call me ‘Reg’.”  
Sirius turned around and left, getting lost in the opposing crowd, and let the blare of his surroundings eat up the growing silence inside him.

_If I was high class_  
_I wouldn’t need  a buck to pass_  
_And if I was a fall guy_  
_I wouldn’t need no alibi_  


“Sirius, why aren’t you wearing the robes I had laid out for you?”  
“I found these better suited.”  
“Sirius, the eldest heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black isn’t expected to wear anything less than laden with intricate embroidery and embellished with stones that even the richest men on this planet can only dream of having. Please go and change into the other ones.”  
“As you say, mother.”  
Sirius trudged up to his room, slowly opening the door. He could see the emerald green robes lying there on his bed. Obviously, they were nothing but displaying absolute grandeur, but Sirius had gone for the red robes just because his mother had chosen the ones laid out in front of him. Just because he couldn’t bear doing anything else his parents wanted. Just because even he had a normal conversation with his mother, he’d always find the words ‘disappointment’, ‘disgrace’ and ‘discipline’ strung together. Slipping out of his robes, Sirius stared at himself in the mirror. The scar from when mother had used Crucio on him was still there, starting from his right shoulder blade and extending back upto the small of his back. Unbeknownst to him, a single tear emerged from his eye, rolling down his cheek, falling into an abyss of darkness that he’d been carrying around with him. Sirius couldn’t help but realise that this had been happening since a long, long time- him crying to himself alone in his own room. In his own house. He couldn’t even count the number of times this had happened. His life had become just like his scar- red and raw. He couldn’t bear crying like this while staring at himself- hair in his eyes, tip of the nose starting to turn red, quivering lower lip. He couldn’t bear living here anymore. He had cried outside of his room too, several times with an alarming frequency since the Easter holidays. Remus was there once, when he was on rounds and Sirius was shaking and shivering on the Astronomy Tower, his cigarette long fallen from his fingers. His first panic attack. Little did he know that soon, many were to follow. Remus had been so, so fucking nice. Despite what he’d done to him, all in the name of a stupid prank, he was still nice. It was angering him, as he wept on Remus’ shoulder, who was quietly letting Sirius have his episode in peace. They hadn’t talked about it the next day. Or many more days to come. Sixth year went by, and neither had mentioned was Sirius was going through to either James or Peter. Since then Remus would never complete his rounds without sparing the Astronomy Tower and Sirius would always be there, a cigarette in hand and a heavy ‘sorry’ waiting to be spoken in his heart. Sirius couldn’t look at himself anymore.  
He started wearing the green robes, when he felt suddenly that something was wrong. He didn’t have any time to realise it because the sound of the guests had reached his ears and he was rushing down. Just when Narcissa was about to approach him, with her over-the-top unnecessary greeting, Sirius felt it. The fabric of the robes stung him. Stung him as if he was wrapped in barbed wires. Sirius realised all too quickly, his mother had charmed the robes, that utter, utter bitch.  
“Sirius, come along. There are a few people I’d like you to meet.”  
Sirius met her eyes, and all he could find was a cold, unmoving and malicious look.  
The party had just started.

  
Year: July, 1979  
Sirius is nineteen. So is Remus.  
A muggle bar, somewhere in London.

“And so, I told him, if a hen was supposed to be born first, Merlin knows she was asexual, or else how come we see a population of hens and cocks all around.”  
The girl had an obnoxious laugh. Remus knew it was just plain fun, nothing more, but he couldn’t help it as he finished all his drink in one go.  
Moreover, the joke wasn’t that funny.  
Sirius, indulging in the muggle girl’s attention, yet not enjoying it, couldn’t help but notice that Remus had gotten up from his seat, as he went out of the bar. James and Lily were busy chatting and having a good time over their recent success. Peter was busy with his then girlfriend, Betty. Sirius couldn’t help but invite an unknown girl to their table, who was actually a tourist from Sweden. She looked lost and expectant for help, and sirius as only willing to. Help, that is. However, he didn’t realised how an hour and a half had passed since he told her the correct route to London Eye. Now, he found the tall, blonde, nice-looking, girl not leaving his side. And as commonality would have it, she was definitely flirting with Sirius, and Sirius couldn’t help basking a little in his own glory, (and also, if he could be perfectly honest with himself, a lot in Remus’ constant stare.)  
“Well, I think I should excuse myself.” Sirius said, eyes not leaving the door which Remus had closed after him not too long ago. James and Lily had noticed Sirius standing up, and were watching him, confused. After all, Sirius was always the last one with a wish to let go of a pub. No, it was rare that Sirius wanted to leave. Even Ms. What’s-her-name tried her best, “I think we could spend an hour or so more, can’t we? It’s a weekend.”  
“Sorry, you see, I seem to have contracted an allergy. All so unfortunate and sudden.”  
Sirius took his motorbike’s keys and proceeded to leave, when the girl shouted from behind him - “What are you allergic to?”  
Before closing the door behind him,Sirius whipped his head around and shouted, “Highly nagging girls.”  
He ran to find Remus.

_Arrive at seven the place feels good_  
_No time to call you today_  
_Encores till eleven then Chinese food_  
_Back to the hotel again_  


Remus was back inside the listening booth of a local record shop that he had been frequenting more than normal the past days. He didn’t even spare a look at which record he picked up, as he put it on. Apparently, it was from the album ‘Lovedrive’ by a rock band from Germany, Scorpions. His mind was still stuck on that girl, on her obnoxious laugh, and Sirius’ eyes crinkling with delight. Remus couldn’t help it, he was just so frustrated. Orders had come from Dumbledore not long ago, and now whilst he was supposed to go on secret missions literally to place unknown even to him, without disclosing his destinations to anyone, all he wanted was to live London as much as he could. And here was Sirius, trying to chat up some fucking bird. “Fuck him.” Remus thought.

_I call your number the line ain’t free_  
_I like to go tell you come to me_  
_A night without you seems like a lost dream_  
_Love I can’t tell you how I feel_  


Remus pinched the bridge of his unnecessarily long nose. He was just so confused, and angry, and scared beyond anything. He obviously couldn’t refuse Dumbledore, no. He was doing something worthwhile, something for the cause, he kept telling himself. He couldn’t help but let out a pathetic laugh. “Merlin, I’m a fucking werewolf spy.” He couldn’t bear thinking that to himself, clear and loud, despite the music. Headphones were something Remus detested. No, music was supposed to be revelled in an open, nurturing environment, although right now he wished he could bleed his ears away with headphones listening to music so, so very loud that it might be deadly.  
“I knew I’d find you here.” Sirius was suddenly inside the booth. Remus opened his eyes, looking straight into Sirius’ grey ones. The booth felt too small for the both of them. “Did you even look at the album cover? It’s scandalously sexy.” Of course, Remus had thrown the cover off and not even bothered to have a look at it. Sirius brought out the cover in front, as he held it in front of his face. Remus couldn’t help but look at the cover as it hid Sirius’ entire face. The original album cover depicted a well dressed man and woman seated in the back of a car, with the woman's right breast exposed and connected to the man's hand by stretched bubblegum. The woman was donning a dress in the shade of a rather sensual blue. Sirius slowly brought down the cover, gazing at him. “So?” He took a step closer. The cover was extremely amorous, there was no doubt about it. He was thinking of saying “Why, sounds like the bubblegum was made in Sweden. No wonder, it was stuck in the wrong place.”  
“I have to go, Sirius.” He said instead.  
“What?” Sirius suddenly became concerned, eyes losing that previous gleam. “What do you mean?”  
Remus couldn’t help it. He had to tell someone, and best it be Sirius. “Dumbledore is sending me on a mission. And no,” Sirius was about to ask him what he was going on about, “I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”  
“Anyone?”  
“Anyone.”  
“I’m not anyone, am I?”  
Remus averted his eyes, not sure what to say to that. Trying not to overthink, Remus said, “It’s - it’s hard, Sirius. Hell, even I don’t know completely what I’m supposed to do. It’s dangerous, I know that. But, I can’t tell anyone Sirius. I can’t.”  
“Oh.” Sirius was still staring at him.h Remus could feel the song still going on. He couldn’t bear the weight of Sirius’ gaze. Couldn’t bear to look if it was sympathising or accusatory. Because Remus wasn’t sure which one would hurt him more.  
Instead, keeping his eyes stuck to the floor,he whispered, “Please trust me.”

_Always somewehre_  
_Miss you where I’ve been_  
_I’ll be back to love you again_  


The singer was busy repenting the love he had lost, as Sirius whispered back, “I do.” He bridged the chasm between them, kissing him with a tenderness of a child. Remus knew in that moment that no matter if the whole world would be against him, Sirius would always be there, smile on face, arms open, and funnily, bed and condom ready and waiting.  
While he was leaving the store, the salesgirl called behind him, “What about the album, Sir? Would you care to buy it?”  
Sirius looked at Remus questioningly, as he simply said, “No, I hate it.”

  
The Loving:

Year:1994  
2nd November.  
Post Sirius’ Azkaban break out. Post the shrieking shack confrontation.  
Sirius turns 35. Remus is 34.

“This place suits you.” Remus says. He looked around, it was probably some forest. He didn’t know the exact locations, most of his journey constituted of hits and trials. Sirius looked better by a mile. He’d recovered some meat on his bones, (Remus didn’t ask him what he had to consume to survive, he didn’t want to) chopped off his extra long hair but still kept it till right above his shoulders. Right now, it was dusk and the whole surrounding was shrouded in a mellow orange, buckbeak was getting drowsy outside, and Remus was starting to feel jittery.  
“Well, it’s a cave and I’m a man. We’re perfect for each other.” He grinned. From outside, buckbeak made disagreeing sound. “Yes and buckbeak too is a very integral part of this. Obviously.” Pausing for a moment, Sirius thought that he should not be asking Remus that. That it would sound rude. But he damned it all to purgatory as he asked, “Why are you here, Remus?”  
“What do you mean why am I here?” Remus looked at him, confusion evident in his eyes.  
“Why would you come all the way to here, for me? I don’t get it, why? Are you trying to be nice?”  
“Seriously, Sirius. If you’d rather have a heartening conversation about me being here and everything, I’d rather get some liquor in me first.”  
“I’m not going to repeat my mistakes again Remus. I cant.”  
They’d had enough of second thoughts and second words and second acts. Enough lies to last the both of them their whole lives. Sirius couldn’t help but look at the 34 year old Remus, his faded white shirt and grey trousers and a rather oversized, without doubt second-hand coat. He really did dress for the job. Or dressed, rather. “I don’t know how you can look at me in the eye after what we did to you. After what I did.” He didn’t have the same guts to look Remus back in the eye, sohe looked out into the sky. Dusk was long hone, and night had fallen. No moon.  
Remus walked around Sirius, took his coat off, placed it on the ground and sat down on it. He shuffled for a few seconds, before settling comfortably. “If this is the moment you choose to bring the past back, I thought I’d rather have a seat.”  
Sirius stood there smiling, of course Remus had a sharp comment for a situation like this too. But, today he had the chance he’d wanted that walked up to him itself. Remus was here, twelve years had passed, and many things were meant to he said. Turning around, Sirius came upto Remus, and sat down beside him on the ground. Remus had slung his arm over his right knee and his left leg was stretched out as if he was just getting ready to watch late night telly show on a lazy Saturday in their flat. “Look, Remus. I don’t know where to begin from. Things weren’t in our control and what happened, shouldn’t have taken place even in the worst case scenario. And I just-“  
“Exactly, Sirius,” Remus raised his hand, “it’s been twelve years. So if we are going to while away whatever time we’ve got on the past, and how much it screwed with us, then I think there’s no bigger dickheads out there than us. So, please, just say what you want to say already.” He looked at Sirius intently, watching him take a deep breath and close his eyes for a few moments. Remus knew what Sirius wanted to say, he’d been on the other end of all the shit that had rained upon them it twelve years ago. Now, Remus was all but a fucking senile werewolf approaching forty faster than his greying hair.  
“I’m sorry.” Sirius finally said, catching Remus out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry for thinking that you were the traitor. I’m sorry for not trusting in you despite promising you I would. And I’m sorry because,well, because.”  
Remus was silent for more than a while. Because. It was a funny word. It gave every crime, every injustice in the world a reason. I fucked my wife’s best friend because. I like watching kids get off because. I think the werewolf whom I used to fuck on a regular basis deserves all the suspicion in the world because.  
“Remus, look at me.” Sirius held his gaze. “Please, I know I shouldn’t think about the past, it’s not going to change and I can wish and curse as much as I want but nothing’s going to change. But please, for the sake of our present,for the sake of whatever we had, I’m sorry. I’m pathetically sorry, right upto my last shred of whatever dignity I’ve got left. I’m so, so sorry.”  
Remus couldn’t help but stare at Sirius’ earnest gaze, his worried expression, his furrowed eyebrows. He still hadn’t lost that prideful nose, those beautiful lashes, the sculpted pair of lips. Thinner, older, weaker, yes. But not any less beautiful than when they were sixteen. Remus smiled quietly at him, as he produced a simple brown suitcase that had his initials engraved on it.  
“Is it-“  
“Yes, it is.”  
“I never realised you’d keep it.” Sirius grazed his fingers on the ‘R.J. Lupin’ engraved in the most beautiful cursive.  
“Of course, I’d keep it. It was one of the few things I could not help leaving behind me.”  
Remus proceeded to open the suitcase, all the while feeling Sirius’ eyes trained on him. He brought out a bottle of some cheap alcohol he was able to acquire at a local shop. He then proceeded to produce a record player from his case as Sirius watched on. Feeling the need to explain, Remus said, “Expandable Charm. “  
Sirius nodded. Was he really that dumb?  
He then proceeded to tinker with the record player, working with some charms and spells, performing them non-verbally. Once he was done, he turned around and looked at Sirius. “It’s going to play any song we want it to play.”  
“Music? Wine? Anything special?”  
“What do you think?”  
“I’d place my bet on the fact that we’re celebrating Valentine’s Day at least two months early.”  
Remus laughed and shook his head, “No, dumbarse. It’s your birthday today.”  
Sirius watched on stupidly. Finally, he managed an “Oh.”  
“Happy Birthday, Sirius.” Remus smiled. He smiled in that simple, unassuming way that Sirius loved. He wished in that curt yet warm tone that Sirius loved. Sirius obviously wouldn’t say that out loud, the Valentine’s Day joke was already enough.  
“Thank you.” He meant it more than any word in the English language could convey. At this point in life, he had but little to be thankful for unlike twelve years ago, and Sirius hoped that maybe Remus and him together could always manage to add on to each other’s list to thankfulness. Currently, however, it was Moony-1, Padfoot-0.   
“And since I didn’t have my wits about me to get glasses, I hope you can manage it straight from he bottle.”  
“What better way to get wasted.” Remus smiled and offered him to take the first swig. Sirius was about to bring the bottle to his lips, when he suddenly stopped.  
“Is anything wrong?” Remus asked, concerned.  
“This is way too perfect Remus. I cant.” He stopped. Thinking of not saying whatever he was going to say and pour down the alcohol, Sirius decided against it. “Look, I just want you to know that all those days when you were gone on Order business to those werewolf camps, I waited. Every day. I waited till dawn, not being able to sleep without you. I waited and waited because somewhere, someplace, I still had an infinite amount of trust in you.”  
Remus couldn’t bear this anymore. “Sirius, look at us. We’re fucking thirty four year olds. I mean, around thirty four. We can’t keep on thinking about the past. It never did anyone good and neither will it now. So can you please, please shut up?”  
Sirius looked down and nodded his head. He should have shut up.  
“Because that would make it easy for me to kiss you.”  
Sirius couldn’t believe his ears. After everything, everything, Remus had decided to give him a chance. Them a chance. He looked up at Remus who was smiling, passive, yielding, his everything and nothing was making his head spin. Yet, he hadn’t equally loved Remus’ other side which rarely anyone’s had seen. How he got irritated when he couldn’t Gwynn to sleep in the r right side of the bed, literally. How he felt irritated if he spotted anyone biting their nails within a ten feet radius of him. How he would get near aggressive if he we’re  engaged in a  verbal debate about the relevances of Victorian’s literature in the contemporary world, and yet be the first one with a peace treaty during physical fights. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”  
“And I’m sorry for believing even for the slightest of moments that you were behind our two best friends’ death.” Remus said, apology lurking in those warm, brown irises.  
“I think its fair to day that we both have been fucked by life pretty much well enough.”  
“Yes we have been. Come here.”  
He brought Sirius closer to him, as Sirius whispered, ever so slowly, “I always waited. Even when you were gone.” “I know.” Remus said. He knew that Sirius wasn’t lying this time. He knew that Sirius had loved him despite not loving him sometimes in between. Their love was like an old record. One that spewed out the most soulful of music, but intermittently, there were sudden silences. But all those momentary glitches in the form of silences did was make the listener feel more and more thankful for the music that followed again, with twice the mellifluence.

Remus’ face was still buried in Sirius’ exposed neck, one of his hand tugging at his hair, while the other silently crept to his wand, as he casted a silent spell at the record played.

_Always somewhere_  
_Miss you where I’ve been_  
_I’ll be back to love you again_  


And Remus knew that he’d always listen to that one record, no matter how old, no matter how many silences it bore.  
Because, Remus loved that record.

 

  
Year: 1996  
Christmas, The Burrow.  
Remus is 36. Sirius is immortal.

“I’ll take those for you.” Said Tonks, while taking the tray of cookies from Remus. Remus mumbled a quick thanks, as he proceeded to sit in the corner of the room. Removing his hair from his eyes, Remus had no inkling of an idea that the tray was dangerously tilting and the cookies would’ve fallen had Tonks not come to the rescue. His eyes were trained on Harry, who was sitting with Ron and Hermione in front of the telly, watching some dumb John Cassavetes movie. It wasn’t dumb forever, since once upon a time, Remus used to love indies. Minnie and Moskowitz was on, and Remus was transported back to sixth year when Sirius was living with him during the Easter holidays, having just run away from his home.  
“I am not like them. I guess it was a conflict of opinions. A serious one, now that I’m bunking with Jamie.” Sirius tried so hard to be funny.  
“No, you aren’t like them.” Remus hadn’t realise that he’d whispered it out loud. It was the truth. Sirius Black was not like them. Is not. Is not. Is not.  
“Remus, I cant seem to get this contraption working.” Molly shouted form other end of the room. She was currently fussing over a rather happy record player. It was obviously talen out from teh trash. “We really are in desperate need of some Christmas carols and I don’t have the heart of asking the kids for help. Harry looks so engrossed in whatever they’re watching, I don’t have the heart.”  
“Minnie and Moskowitz.”  
“What?”  
“Nothing, let me see.”  
He walked over to the player, it was kept beside the window. Despite the window was closed, there were cracks big enough. Remus shivered, as he pulled the sleeve of the sweater Molly had made for him, which barely reached his wrists. He was not able to not wear her sweater to her Christmas celebration. Tinkering with the record player, Remus hadn’t noticed that Molly was gone and Tonks was standing beside him.  
“Watcha doing?” Tonks took a sip of her firewhiskey, looking at Remus with intrigue. Remus had been getting some rather disconcerting signals from Nymphadora, and he thought that he could avoid it with silence. Obviously, he was wrong. Tonks didn’t give up easily and Remus wasn’t ready to give in. Ever.  
“Getting the record player to bring some Christmas cheer in the house.”  
“Oh, here let me see.” Tonks played her hand on Remus’ arm, and came up beside him, brushing he left breast against his right forearm. Remus didn’t want to celebrate Christmas. He didn’t want to stay alert throughout the days, always on watch for death eaters. All he wanted was for Sirius to come back. He wanted to touch that mane of his, flick the pointed tip of that nose of his, run his hand through that skin of his, taste those heavenly lips of it. Not a woman’s breast against his arm. Trying to be as discreet as possible, Remus tried to move back, as Tonks bent over, still talking, “What song would you like me to play Remus?”  
Remus couldn’t say, “Delilah” by Tom Jones, obviously. It was fucking Christmas, and red noses were the trend right now.  
“Anything you’d like.”  
Alright, how about, “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus?”  
Fuck, that was an inside joke between him and Sirius.  
Remus remembered back in fourth year, when Jesus had played a literal joke on him. All his friends had come over for Christmas, and they’d had a really fun celebration. Lyall was dressed as Santa and Hope had the brightest laugh on her face. During the night, they were all wasting time in Remus’ room, and like he had feared Sirius had his sudden bouts of hunger like always. But so were they all, teenage boys with the most eccentric of appetites. Remus had gone down to his parent’s room, “Mom are there any gingerbread men still- Ah!”  
His parents were having sex. But that didn’t elicit such a scandalous response form Remus, no. The fact was that his dad still had his fake beard and red Santa cap on. That’s what freaked him out as he was redder than Rudolph’s nose and ran upstairs. Scolding all of his friends and himself going to sleep, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to, it wasn’t months until he’d told anyone about that. And by anyone, he meant Sirius, listening to him as if it was going to he a serious story and near the end, he has tears in his eyes due to unstoppable laughter. Since then, “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” was much more to them than a song written by the point of view of a fucking weird kid who sings about this fact rather than scream and run away. Yes, everything became much more between them.  
And now, it was all gone.  
Remus left his spot, where he was standing like a scarecrow, as he went out through the door, the chatter and the warmth getting cut off as he shut the door behind him.  
Bill Weasley’s car was standing outside in the window, as Remus rushed towards it, and using a quick spell, opened the door and got inside. Quickly shutting the door off, Remus finally let out the scream which he had been holding inside since the past days, no, months, into the engulfing silence of the blue 1970 Ford Capri. “Why did you have to go? I couldn’t even say goodbye, Padfoot.” Remus bent his head down, resting it against the headboard, as his tears started a riot of their own.  
He wanted to burn himself down, the loss and ache was setting his heart on fire. Thankfully, the car was doing its best at letting Remus just rage and mourn and vent out. Remus needed to let it out, and if all his sorrows were to crash upon him from the heavens of Christmas, then so be it. He couldn’t care less.  
Sitting back up, Remus leaned back into the seat, as he looked at the fields ahead, and then up at the sky. Searching the countless stars that were keeping the half-moon company for Sirius.  
“You deserved better. Than any of us.” He knew that Sirius would strongly disagree with that comment but fuck, he wasn’t there to. He thought of Sirius’ passionate and expressive nature, how he’s disagree and agree with things so quickly, how he’d never budge from his decisions, how he was a wildfire that set Remus alive.  
“You didn’t die a Black, Sirius. You died a Sirius.” Remus wanted Sirius to know that, so bad. He knew how much Sirius needs that validation, that he wasn’t like his parents. That Phineas, or Narcissa or anyone, were nothing when compared to Sirius. He wanted Sirius to know that he died like a true gryffindor. He wanted Sirius to know that he died like a true fighter. He wanted Sirius to know that he died like a true godfather. He wanted Sirius to know that he sacrificed himself like a true lover.  
“Fuck!” Remus croaked. He wanted to remember Sirius in the light that reflected in kaleidoscopes, in the most stirring of operas, in the bright and overflowing laughter of innocent children, in the reflections of the stars in the deepest of lakes, in music. Yes, he found Sirius in music.  
Almost impalpable, he had turned on the radio, his fingers going through station by station. Out here in the countryside, with nothing but grass and mud stretching on for miles and miles, Remus wished for a single station with a song that would be just the one. Like Sirius was. Is.  
“Hark! Now hear, the angels sing...”  
Some station had Elton John crooning, “Welcome to my Christmas song...”  
Remus wished for a single, single station somewhere. One song for Sirius. One song for his unique,un-Black nature, for his bravery, for his rightful validation. One song.  
His fingers kept changing the stations. Then, through the endless static, a voice came through, and Remus’ closed his eyes. His fingers finally stopped at the perfect frequency, that frequency which matched his heart. He knew that Sirius was listening, and shaking his head in amusement, and loving this song after about fifteen years.

 _If I had a mind to_  
_I wouldn’t wanna to be like you_  
_And f I had the time to_  
_I wouldn’t want to talk to you_  
  
_I don’t care_  
_What you_  
_do_  
_I wouldn’t want to be like you_  


The static was back.

**Author's Note:**

> “I Wouldn’t Want To Be Like You”~ The Alan Parsons Project (1977)  
> “Always Anywhere”~ The Scorpions (1979)  
> Minnie and Moskowitz is a spectacular indie masterpiece directed by John Cassavetes starring Gina Rowlands and Seymour Cassel. 
> 
> I wrote this fic in a train and any spelling mistakes can be attributed to my wobbling fingers. I hope even the badness of this fic could also be excused too.


End file.
